


Oh, Lady Be Good

by Papillonae



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Cunnilingus, Dressing Room Sex, F/F, Frottage, Jazz Age, Nonbinary Character, Other, Singing, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 17:40:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16837312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Papillonae/pseuds/Papillonae
Summary: Chicago, 1920′s. A provocative jazz performance leads to something a bit more private.





	Oh, Lady Be Good

It was the ritziest theater in the district – the Gem Theater. At least, that was what Amelia had promised.

The air inside the theater was thick with cigarette smoke. Chandeliers lined the ceiling; wall sconces illuminated the entrances and lined the grand staircase leading up to the oddities museum. So many people had gathered by the bar, laughing over lowball glasses sloshing with honey-colored liquor. The dim flickering of match fire pulsed in the crowd. Some began to take their seats at the tables surrounding the stage; the usual patrons shuffled quickly toward the best seats in the house.

Ruth weaved through the people, toward the valet at the entrance into the theater house. They straightened out the cuffs of their tailored suit, adjusted their hat in such a way that their braided coil of hair was perfectly hidden. They spoke little and squared their shoulders. Carrying themself with authority came second nature.

When Ruth approached the gentleman at the door, they deliberately tapped at their lapel. Amelia had instructed them to pin a few violets to their suit to indicate their identity and intention; many folks of their persuasion frequented the theater, and Amelia had assured them that they were not the only ones. The man nodded and gestured them inside.

When Amelia had introduced Ruth to the music of Chicago in the daylight, it was all big brass bands and the unmistakable sound of American optimism and grandeur. Ruth pretended not to notice the stiffening of Amelia’s shoulders, the pride that shone in her eyes at the shiver of trumpets. That was the music she would play on the victrola, the type of music the two of them would hum for the rest of the day.

But here…! It was here in the nightlife that the jazz musicians shone. And it was like nothing Ruth had ever heard before! The flourish of muted horns, the syncopated hi-hat and snare, the particular timbre of the piano keys… not to mention, the sensual growl of a saxophone…

Presently, Ruth found themself a small table for two and took a seat. To anyone in the crowd, they were just another patron, fond of the theater as everyone else.

As one of the waiters took their drink order, the lively musical interlude slowed to a sultry number and the house lights dimmed. Only the pale blue stage lights remained. The dancers began to emerge from off-stage, their silhouettes elegant and mesmerizing on the painted city backdrop. A bright silver spotlight was pointed on the painted moon.

There was a sudden strong smell of cigarette smoke. Ruth looked over their shoulder to find a group of gentlemen standing behind them. They all held their own glasses of liquor and were in good spirits.

Ruth glimpsed the growing crowd behind the gentlemen – when had the theater hall become so full?

“Pardon us,” one of the men said with an apologetic grin, a plume of smoke erupting from his lips, “it looks like the rest of the seats are taken. Would you mind if we watched the show with you?”

“Not at all,” they replied coolly, trying to remain calm while talking to these strangers, “and to whom do I owe the pleasure of this company?”

One by one, the gentlemen introduced themselves, and Ruth firmly shook their hands. They noted idly that they were all introducing themselves based on the flowers pinned to their suit jackets – Mister Primrose, Mister Carnation, and Mister Cornflower. The dim house lighting made it difficult to discern any of their features.

They all clapped their hands on their shoulder and called them Mister Violet. An involuntary surge of confidence coursed through Ruth, and put them at ease.

After brief introductions, Mister Primrose set his glass of gin down on the table, eager to chat. “So Mister Violet, what is your accent? It’s quite nice, though I can’t quite place it…”

“It’s Lithuanian. Eastern Europe.”

“Keen!” Mister Primrose lit up and he lightly tapped one of his companions on the arm, startling him in-between sips of his own drink. “A man with an accent sounds sooo distinguished. Take Mister Cornflower here – he’s from London originally, you see.”

Ruth took their own glass as one of the waiters set it down before them. “Is that so?”

Mister Carnation cleared his throat, which seemed to startle Mister Primose back a ways. “Mister Violet, are you here alone?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I just noticed you have an empty seat beside you…”

“Oh – well, please,” Ruth laughed awkwardly and gestured toward the unoccupied chair, “if any of you gentlemen would care to take a seat—”

“What Mister Carnation is asking,” Mister Primrose chimed in, his arm now linked in Mister Cornflower’s, “is if you’re _escorting_ someone tonight.”

Before Ruth could reply, the house lights slowly faded to a near-dark glow and a figure slowly began to rise up from the trap door of the stage. The music changed with a piano flourish. A hush fell over the audience as the pianist from the stage pit announced in a clear voice:

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the Gem Theater is proud to present the Crown Canary of the Stage… Miss Amelia Jones, presenting a special song for a special someone.”

A second spotlight illuminated the stage, revealing the rising diva. Amelia stood, the light painting her skin as bright as the moon. Her diamond earrings and fascinator twinkled against the dark background as stars in the sky. She was wrapped in a black stole, covering herself demurely.

Her entrance left Ruth speechless.

The men around their table began to laugh and nudge them playfully. “Is it your first time seeing Amelia perform?” Mister Primrose asked in hushed tones, then Mister Carnation blew smoke next to them as he laughed, adding, “You’re in for a real treat!”

Ruth ignored their teasing as Amelia’s lips parted – so bright and red under the harsh light – and she began to sing:

 _Listen to my tale of woe,_  
it's terribly sad but true:  
All dressed up, no place to go  
Each ev'ning I'm awf'ly blue…

_I must win some handsome guy,  
Can't go on like this,_

All of the gentlemen in the audience began to cheer, hooting low and whistling as Amelia clutched at the handkerchief she had pulled from her hidden bosom to dab playfully at her eyes with. She gazed longingly out at the audience before her pout curled into a smile:

  
_I could blossom out I know,_  
 _With somebody just like you…_

Ruth sat up straighter in their seat. They could see Amelia’s eyes searching over her shoulders as she turned her back to the audience…

_So…_

Amelia shrugged off her stole in one dramatic wave, revealing a breathtaking satin dress the color of midnight, glittering in the spotlight. The cut of her back exposed her shoulder blades; long slits in her dress revealed miles of strong dancer’s legs. As she turned it was revealed just how the neckline hugged her, her breasts pushed up in such a way that accentuated their roundness. The audience fell silent, enchanted as she dropped the stole behind her and approached the edge of the stage.

_Oh, sweet and lovely lady, be good,  
Oh lady, be good to me_

_I am so awf'ly misunderstood,  
So lady, be good to me_

As Amelia gingerly sat on top of the piano in the orchestra pit and the spotlight followed her down. Her dress skirts were hitched up enough to reveal her dark netted stockings and garters, and just a small hint at what was further underneath… the sight was positively enticing.

Ruth loosened their collar a bit, which prompted Mister Carnation to tease them a little more. More men had gathered around the table, and the gentlemen began to chat them up quietly as the performance continued.

Amelia gently tucked her handkerchief into the pianist’s vest pocket, her doe-eyed expression entreating as she angled herself just _so_ … rested against the piano _like that_ … Her legs were so impossibly long, just as the slits in her dress seemed so impossibly high…

_Oh, please have some pity,  
I'm all alone in this big city…_

_I tell you I'm just a lonesome babe in the wood,  
So lady, be good to me…_

“Hey, Mister Violet,” Mister Primrose said in a hush, tapping Ruth on their shoulder, “I hear there’ll be an after party a couple blocks over. All the gals from tonight’ll be there, if you’re interested.”

Ruth ignored the invite and pulled their suit jacket even tighter over their chest. It wasn’t exactly their idea of a party – not exactly the kind of place they would want to be caught dead in. The attention from the men gathered around their table, even from the ones who also had flowers on their lapels, was suffocating.

They focused instead on Amelia. Her presence on stage demanded attention. Ruth’s gaze stalked her every move: the bend of her body as she sang on the piano, the dark, glittering satin of her dress clinging to her waist as she raised her hips into the air… her hands teasing up and down her body as the dancers – their costumes and clothes revealing and disheveled – raised her up off the piano and touched her, their fingers raking at her garters, threatening to tear them off…

It wasn’t hard to imagine themself in the dancers’ place.

_Oh, please have some pity,  
I'm all alone in this big city…_

The stage spotlight soaked her light blonde hair, shining off each curl, her bright red lips were smart and smirking – _Oh,_ Ruth thought, _how I could kiss them raw_ …

_I tell you I'm just a lonesome babe in the wood,  
So lady be good… lady be good to me…_

The song reached its end, and Amelia’s eyes finally found Ruth’s. There was something decidedly impish in them as she slowly traced her lips with her finger.

Ruth swallowed hard, shifting in their seat. _God_ , even her mouth was open in such a way… like an invitation all its own. They certainly weren’t planning on leaving the theater alone.

If that certain tilt of Amelia’s chin was any indication, neither did she.

* * *

When the door to the dressing room opened, the young dancer who answered the knock seemed pleasantly taken back by Ruth and leaned eagerly against the doorframe. “Well ain’t you a regular sheik,” she drawled, “what brings you here, stranger?” 

Ruth, unaccustomed to such flattery, looked awkwardly down at their shoes. “I’m here to accompany Miss Jones home tonight.”

The rest of the girls in the dressing room cooed in unison, and they seemed to close in, advancing like a pack of sharks. Ruth looked up, past the sea of adoring faces and the smell of powders and perfumes. They kept jumping up, vying for Ruth’s attention, demanding answers for their visit.

Finally, they saw her: over waves and curls of hair, they saw Amelia. When their eyes met again, Ruth’s excitement grew, electric and ready. Amelia’s expression blossomed as she gave a small scream of joy and scuttled toward the door. She pushed her way through the girls as they began to tease her.

Before they knew it, Ruth found themself being dragged in while the rest of the dancers were being pushed out, all of them giggling and whooping suggestively.

“Aw, c’mon gals, the after party is down on Fifth Avenue, ain’t it?” Amelia insisted, one hand shyly holding her cheek as she pressed hard on the door with the weight of her opposite shoulder, “why don’t y’all find yourselves some nice fellas to dance into a stupor?”

Once she had shoved the girls out the door, she closed it quickly, locking it.

Amelia whirled around and threw her arms around Ruth – the colliding hug nearly knocking them both off-balance.

“Oh Ruthie, honey!” she exclaimed in-between kisses all over their face, “I’m so glad you came out tonight!”

Ruth laughed as they tried to actually lock a solid kiss on her lips, heedless of how every inch of their face was being smudged with lipstick. “Of course,” they laughed, gentleness touching their words, “You invited me – I wouldn’t dream of missing it.”

The two of them hobbled together, their kisses messy and rushed, both giggling into each other’s lips. Amelia was drunk enough off the smell of liquor on Ruth’s breath and the remaining adrenaline tingling from her chest after tonight’s performance. The back of her legs touched the wide vanity counter. She broke away to catch her breath and looked up at Ruth admiringly. Her slender hand slid from Ruth’s shoulder to their chest.

“Mm, you make such a handsome escort,” she said with a knowing smirk, hoisting herself up to sit on the counter. Her free hand carelessly knocked away compacts and tins of face powder; a large cloud of white dust was forgotten in her haste.

Her hands slipped behind Ruth, pulling them in by their waist. “Not to mention…” Her hands traveled ever south, gently giving their buttocks a squeeze: “how well-tailored this suit is…”

_Oh._

Ruth’s eyes widened when the realization hit them. “Shouldn’t we wait to do this at the hotel?” they asked in hushed tones, their eyes darting nervously between the door and their lover, who was reeling them in by their necktie, “this is a rather… bold choice…”

Amelia laughed softly and parted her legs. She breathed in their cologne and nipped at the soft of their neck. At the sensation – the touch, the wisp of her breath – Ruth felt their face heat, and their worries were forgotten in an amorous fog.

“Why d’you think I asked the gals to leave?” Amelia asked, her voice velvety and low. “With that party going on downtown, I’m sure no one will bother us.” She traced her tongue up their neck, pausing only to kiss their jaw.

“And besides –“ she nibbled at their earlobe, whispering, “– I promised you a _private performance_ …”

The words were a lance of heated resolve.

Ruth’s throat went dry. They watched in awe as Amelia looked back up at them, something decisive and scintillating in her smile. _Oh_ , how that smile made their heart lurch forward…

“Miss Jones, you sure are something,” Ruth replied in a husky voice, the words hardly escaping their mouth before Amelia pulled them in for another fervent kiss, open-mouthed and willing.

They both fumbled with their clothes, laughing as they realized they couldn’t unbutton and untie each other with trembling hands. Ruth nipped at the curve of Amelia’s shoulder and she squealed in surprise, laughing sweetly as her hands set to work removing Ruth’s suit coat. She could feel Ruth’s finger curl underneath the strap of her dress, pulling it to the side so their lips could claim her collarbone, her breasts…

“Honey,” Amelia sighed, arching into their lips, “let me finish taking care of you—”

Ruth swirled their tongue on the nipple, and Amelia’s offer soon dissolved into a moan. Their hands caressed Amelia’s thighs and freed her stockings from the garter belt.

They smirked knowingly. “Permit _me_.”

Amelia grinned dumbly, unable to protest.

“My, what a gentleman…”

Ruth returned the smile. “But of course…”

Amelia giggled softly, biting her lower lip as Ruth knelt before her. Their fingers artfully rolled down her stockings and lingerie, trailing kisses reverently where the nylon and lace peeled away from her skin: thighs, knees, calves… Each one felt like a small ember.

“You sure know what you’re doing,” Amelia sighed. Another giggle bubbled up as Ruth’s lips lightly brushed her toes.

“Of course I do.” Ruth laughed softly. “I know what you like.”

“Hmm. And what do I like, Ruthie?”

Ruth feathered delicate kisses from her toes back up her calves and thighs. They could feel the quiver of her legs. The sight of her dress straps loosely hung off her shoulders pulled them desperately closer to her devilish smile.

“Tell me what I like, honey,” she repeated, her leg wrapped around them and insistently pulling them in.

Ruth lightly stroked her thighs, rewarded by the shiver of breath Amelia drew. “Well, first,” they said, “you like it when I kiss you.”

They softly met again, mouth on mouth – each kiss more ardent, more painfully wanting than the last.

“What else?” Amelia asked, her mouth still pressed hungrily to Ruth’s.

As Ruth slid their fingers between Amelia’s legs, they took a moment to savor the soundless moan that formed hotly against their lips, the eager push for friction as she rolled her hips against their hand. Their fingers fluttered and curled, slicked with arousal, and they watched Amelia – her mouth hung open in pleasant surprise, eyes closed, and a shuddering sound escaped her that was half-laughter, half-sighing.

“Is this what you’d like?”

“Yeah…”

Her back flush against the mirror, Amelia threaded her hands through Ruth’s hair, loosening their pinned-up braid. She rocked herself against their fingers, a hoarse whimper of pleasure catching in her throat.

“ _Shhhhhhit_ , Ruthie… Oh, honey…!”

Ruth smirked up at her, suckling kisses along Amelia’s stomach as they knelt once more between her legs. Their breath fluttered along Amelia’s thigh, and they smiled at the involuntary shudder.

Ruth’s eyes fixed on Amelia’s face as their kisses trailed north along her thighs, taking in the sight of her flushed cheeks, her red mouth open and panting, the way her golden curls fell messily around her face. Then they met those eyes, the blueness of them so impossible; the blue of a clear sky, the blue a forget-me-not’s small petals.

“Is there something else you’d like?” they asked.

Amelia rocked her hips forward, her teeth pressing into one of her fingers. “Your mouth…”

Ruth slowly removed their fingers, only to tease up her slit with the tip of their tongue. Amelia’s breath hitched as the full warmth of Ruth’s mouth enveloped her folds. She lightly began to roll her hips, desperate to draw closer to the hum of their lips, the heat of their breath, the impossible melting wherever she was pressed…

Ruth shivered at the sound of those breathless moans. Their hand secretly tended to the throbbing ache of their own.

“Amelia…”

Her eyes fluttered open to find Ruth looking up at her, their tongue gently circling their clit before their lips closed over it.

The curve of her neck caught the warm dressing room lights as she threw her head back. The sight of her coming undone was lovely, and the sound of it had been sweeter than any song Ruth had ever heard.

When they finally withdrew their mouth, they could hear Amelia’s shaky, gentle laughter – feel the knobbing of her knees as they pushed against their sides.

“Gee Ruthie, you sure are a tough act to follow…”

“Next to the Crown Canary of the Stage? I hear you’re the real show-stopper.”

Amelia’s smile turned coy and she unwrapped herself from Ruth. “Make yourself comfortable then.”

Ruth saw no other place to sit, other than the chaise lounge off away from the changing panels and the vanities. As they laid themself across it, they watched Amelia push herself off the table. Her knees buckled a little, and in spite of themselves, they both began to laugh.

In the golden lighting of the dressing room, Amelia peeled the straps off her shoulders and shrugged the dress off. It fell in a shiny, satin heap around her feet. She stepped out of it, tucking a curly lock of hair behind her ear before she realized Ruth had been staring the whole time.

It was her turn to be bashful. “Enjoying the show?” she asked. A small giggle caught her words.

“You’re lovely.”

Amelia seemed to regain her confidence. Her fingertips traced down her hips as she straddled Ruth. The feeling of Ruth’s hands against her bare waist – Ruth’s lips seizing the sensitive flesh of her throat - sent an electric thrill up her spine and made her bold.

Then there was the hot shudder of breath as Amelia eagerly slipped a hand between Ruth’s legs, fingers gently pressing and teasing through the fabric. Then she was on top of them, all curves and golden hair and _perfect_ with her red-smeared lips.

She gently eased Ruth out of their vest, and they both fumbled with the buttons of their dress shirt until it, too, was discarded on the floor. Ruth’s unkempt braid had come completely unwound.

Every hard line of their body, every muscle and stretch of Ruth’s freckle-dusted skin proved much too inviting. Amelia doggedly avoided the sight of their bellybutton, the all-too alluring sliver of skin that tempted her gaze toward the cleavage of their chest.

“My handsome Ruthie,” Amelia murmured sweetly, pressing her lips to the dip of their collarbone. Her fingers fluttered, pressing through their clothes. “Do you have any requests?”

Ruth sighed, their breath hitching in anticipation as Amelia slowly traced down their stomach with the tip of her tongue. The last sleeve of the dress-shirt was pulled away, their pants were gently rolled down to their ankles.

The words passed over Ruth’s lips as they felt Amelia’s warmth against their skin, her insistent hand replaced with a strong knee:

“Lady, be good to me.”


End file.
